Page 51 of Nathan

A bell jingles overhead, alerting the waitress behind the counter, who’s serving coffee to men in suits.

“Sit anywhere you like,” she says, waving her hand around the café. “I’ll be over in a sec.”

Nate slides into a booth, and I follow. I’ve figured, after the several meals we’ve shared, Nate prefers for me to sit beside him rather than opposite. He runs his hand up my inner thigh and hits me with a smile that melts my insides.

“You’re learning, Titch.”

I’ve never thought of myself as subservient enough to be a people pleaser. I’m too mouthy and opinionated to need outside validation. But pleasing Nate is becoming an addiction. I chase his smiles and crave his approval. I love making him happy because it makes me happy.

After we order pancakes, eggs, and coffee, I turn to Nate. “What are we doing today?”

Nate taps the side of his nose. “Wait and see.”

I grin. Let him have his fun. “As long as the Empire State is on the list, I’m good.”

“It might be,” he says, leaning back to allow the waitress to set down two steaming mugs of coffee.

“Are you sure Declan doesn’t need you to help with the wedding? We can easily sightsee on Sunday and Monday.”

Nate flashes a look of horror my way. “That sounds like my idea of hell. I’m here. I’ll turn up tomorrow, smile, and make small talk with dicks I couldn’t give two shits about. As for anything else?” He shakes his head vigorously. “Nope. Not a fucking chance.”

I roll my eyes. “Jeez. Chill, will ya.”

He narrows his eyes, but beneath the fierce stare is a mischievous glint I can’t resist. I fling my arms around his neck and kiss him, a quick peck rather than a passionate clinch, but when I begin to pull away, Nate holds me in place and deepens the kiss.

Breaking away, he rests his forehead against mine. “The taste of you is becoming addictive. Luckily, our pancakes will be here soon, otherwise I may have gotten on my knees and eaten you instead.”

A couple of customers at nearby tables look over. My face burns not because of what Nate said, but the volume at which he said it.

“Shhh,” I say, giving him a nudge.

“What?” When I cock my head, Nate makes eye contact with a man sitting adjacent who has decided the conversation happening to his left is a lot more interesting than his plate of eggs Benedict. His sleazy gaze sweeps over me, and he licks his lips.

Nate straightens in his seat and picks up his fork. “Buddy, if you don’t take your eyes off my girlfriend, I’ll fucking gouge them out.”

I stare at the floor, willing it to open up and swallow me whole.

The guy clears his throat. “No offense meant.” His chair scrapes backward, and he gets to his feet, mumbling an apology.

Once I’m sure he’s gone, I lift my head, expecting to see the entire café watching the show. Thankfully, Nate’s glowering expression must put off any other interested parties because not one person is paying us any attention.

Then Nate’s words hit me like a ten-ton truck. Girlfriend. He’s only gone and called me his girlfriend. My mouth opens and closes, but the arrival of our breakfast saves me from conjuring up any words. Nate seems oblivious to my bewilderment as he picks up the maple syrup and pours it over his pancakes.

“Take a bite and tell me they’re not the best damn pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

I stare at my plate, then at him. “I’m your girlfriend?”

Nate frowns, then his forehead wrinkles, sending his eyebrows shooting up. “Fuck. Yeah. Shit.” And then he breaks into a smile. “Guess you’re stuck with me, Titch. How do you feel about that?”

I sweep my tongue over my dry lips and swallow. “I guess I can cope… once I’ve trained you up a bit.”

Nate throws back his head and laughs. “Trained me up?”

I grin. “Yeah. I mean, you could be boyfriend material. It’ll take a lot of work, but I’m up for the challenge if you are.”

Nate shakes his head, but the smile is still very much on his lips. “Sold.”

My heart thrums against my ribcage. I just became Nate O’Reilly’s girlfriend. Oh, dear God, I’m going to hyperventilate.

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